As We Drift
by Supernova2405
Summary: Roxas isn't sure of much anymore, trying to fight through hazy memories that might make some sense if only he could remember. When he's finally hit by reality full force, he can do nothing but fall back on his only piece of stability; Axel.


Roxas was sat at that same old bench again, wondering why he couldn't smell sea salt. The air felt cryptic, like secrets lingered on it, not even blowing wind through his hair like it should be in case he found out something vital. The sounds of the waves were muffled, as if they were a watercolour left out in the rain to run. Nothing seemed fixed, or constant, though everything remained just a stone's throw away from how he remembered it. The wooden pier under his bare feet lacked texture, but he hadn't the energy to complain. He was glad to be here, relieved by the nostalgia that washed over him, even if it meant ignoring those tiny details that had forgotten their place.

He'd grown up here, on Destiny Island pier. Always eager to go with his mother and father, smiling wide faceless smiles in his hazy memory, or sneaking out with friends as times moved on. He remembered the shouts and the way the wind that hit his ears made them ring with laughter. He remembered feeling _safe_. If he could only concentrate, he might wonder why he lacked that old mist of reassurance that shrouded his better judgement. Surely not _that_ much had changed.

He was older now. Yes, older. His eyes had seen many different things. The thought of being so young, so untainted, made him feel dirty in comparison. _Perverse_. He knew he waited for someone, though the face he searched for seemed to be just out of reach in his mind. He thought he heard seagulls, playfully squawking overhead, and then toyed with the taste of metal at the back of his throat. The natural birdcall shouldn't provoke that response, yet still he brushed it off, swallowing hard in an attempt to remove the taste that made his head hurt. The waves didn't appear to be crashing today, still and calm as a result of the placid air above them. Instead the blanket of liquid blue and green glass, reflecting the faint cloud covered sunlight in every direction, rippled and moved like swarms of creatures charging towards the shore in long, unending regiments just under its surface.

His eyes felt heavy, warm, like they wanted to sleep but knew they couldn't. He was _waiting_ for someone. Someone he could trust to know where he was, who knew where to look. He searched his mind for more information, but the more he tried the more the feeling of pins and needles spread. He wiped his forehead with a thin pale hand, not sure if he recognised it. But this was his hand, grown into spindles atop a wide fragile base, come away from his face glistening with cold sweat. _Not long now_, a voice echoed to him, though it didn't fit. It wasn't right for this place, it didn't _belong_ here. As he began to panic, trying to force his body to sit up and find out why things weren't fitting into place like they should, the door that led to the pier's amusement building gently rocked open, giving way to the splendid looking silhouette of his favourite, most beautiful memory.

Axel.

The vision of the pier swam around him, as he began to remember. He wasn't feeling well, and Axel had gone to get him some tablets to help steady his seasick thoughts. He'd waited for him right here, in _their_ spot, waiting until he returned and helped block out all the pain he was beginning to feel again. His body, no longer struggling against him, fell back into the bench, and a half smile forced its way to his lips. Axel would stop the buzzing that made him so disorientated, because Axel was his_ friend_. He and Axel had too much history to fit into one lifetime, Roxas often thought, and imagined a time when he would have worn a black coat, instead of that same old white one; where he and Roxas would take on the world together, fighting in the shadows, and turning from beautiful strangers into an unstoppable force of nature. _Friends._ Axel was here now.

Axel walked the short distance carefully, though Roxas couldn't understand why. Was the pier unstable? Were they going to fall if he moved too violently, or too overconfidently? Roxas looked to his face, not entirely confident his own would spell out his concerns effectively enough. Axel's steady stare wasn't on the ground, the unstable beams of rotting wood, like Roxas had suspected. It was fixed on him, and it screamed of pain and suffering and insecurity. He wondered how bad this 'not feeling well' must look on him, dishevelled by the cold sweat and the shakes. Everything would be okay when Axel gave him some medicine though, all the sickness would go away until they could carry on playing in the amusements until it was time to go home for dinner.

It felt like a lifetime later that Axel finally made it to him, though it had only taken a few seconds. Every movement felt agonisingly slow, and Roxas couldn't seem to coordinate enough to shout for him to hurry up. He didn't want Axel to have to see him like this, all weak and helpless. He felt like his whole body was made of cotton wool dipped in napalm. Axel sat beside him, handing him a small, neat cup of water, and three different coloured pills. Roxas tried not to be hypnotised by them, knowing they would do far more good inside him, and quickly drank down the water with its capsulated medicine passengers. Now he just needed to wait, for the moment he felt better again. For a better memory. For the time when he could speak to Axel again without making a dithering fool of himself. He felt Axel's arm around him before he could voice his protests, concerns of being contagious ringing distant warning bells in his head, but he was too tired. He was comfortable, surrounded by familiarity, in the one place he felt most at home...

When he opened his eyes again he felt sick. He felt like clawing out his throat from the inside, but he wouldn't be fast enough. Somehow, Axel had managed to provide a bowl from nowhere in which Roxas proceeded to violently vomit. Even when there was nothing more to come, his stomach heaved and writhed inside him, screaming and screaming noiseless threats about not obeying. When it finally gave in he took his hand from his stomach, muscles raw and aching, and tried to look around. The bowl was moved swiftly, so he didn't throw up again he suspected, but the place he was seemed so _bright_. He tried to focus, body not aching as much anymore, but felt sick by what he was greeted with for his efforts.

He wasn't at the pier.

Startled, desperate, he searched around for an answer. The bed was neatly made, though it wasn't a bed he recognised at all. The walls were white wash, simple, and completely forgettable. Everything was so _white_. He looked down at himself and saw that he, too, was covered in white, but they were clothes he didn't ever remember buying or owning. He remembered Axel, walking to the bathroom with the bowl, and tried to get up. His limbs felt stiff, as if unused for days, and he almost fell at first, but step by step he gathered momentum, and launched himself towards the bathroom door with all the limited energy he could scrape from his cells.

Axel was bent over the sink, faucet on full, washing the bowl. Why did he look so _calm?!_ That's not the Axel Roxas remembered at all. Axel was a big headed shit, a total ass, a freak, a psycho, a fucking scary bastard ninety percent of the time... but _never_ calm. Not like this. He looked like he'd had his soul ripped out of him. Roxas was suddenly extremely aware of all of the sci-fi films he watched as a kid, where aliens took over people's brains and pretended to be them. He tried backing off a few steps before Axel saw him, but clattered into a chair.

Axel's face... that gut wrenching concern that hovered on the surface of his beautiful green eyes. It was all so familiar, but all so incredibly _wrong_.

"Roxas, calm down, it's okay. Where are you?" Axel had dropped the bowl, obviously now completely unimportant, and was approaching Roxas with his hands palm out in front of him. Roxas was instantly confused by his question. He coupled it with the action and panicked.

"Are you... are you _blind_ Axel? What happened?! And where the hell are we? Last thing I remember was you bringing me those pills on the pier..." He drifted off, watching as Axel's face twisted in more pain. Logically, he though, perhaps he should have stayed still, but his body reacted on instinct alone where Axel was concerned, and always had. He dived forward, into the wide –and unsurprisingly _white_ - bathroom and wrapped his arms around Axel's waist. Axel didn't move for a minute or two, and then Roxas felt him soften into the hug.

"No, Rox, I'm not blind. I can see just fine..." His voice was barely a whisper, a faint recollection of summer nights, "You... you're just in this room? Not the pier, or the alley, or the park?"

Roxas didn't want to pull away; he was scared of what he might see in Axel's face that could possibly depict the broken sound of his voice. His lungs felt tight, his stomach still raw with pain after vomiting, and he got the faintest impression he might pass out, but he tried some deep breaths before he spoke again, hoping them might tide him over.

"Axel... where are we?" He thought he felt a shudder in his friend's body, a tremor that either gave away a silent chuckle or a silent sob. This time even the comfort of Axel's embrace couldn't stop him from pulling away. Whatever was happening, he needed to face reality. Plus even if it was aliens planning to suck out their souls, or an evil science testing lab, or _whatever_ it was, Roxas had Axel with him, so he knew he'd somehow find them a way out of this mess.

Axel's face this time was a stranger. He didn't recognise that look of defeat, or the paleness to his skin. The bags under his eyes had never been so pronounce, and the capillaries in his eyes were like a sheath of red netting. This Axel looked withered, short on spirit and physical health, and Roxas had the panicked thought that he might have given Axel what he'd had on the pier after all. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror on the wall and did a double take. He barely recognised the person that stared back at him.

Axel opened his mouth to speak then closed it again; frustration gripping him and forcing its way into his teeth, now biting down sharply on his lower lip. There was a tiny spec of blood before he retracted, an imprint of his upper canine now being filled with his already limited crimson life force. Roxas looked at him pointedly, scared to repeat himself.

"We're... Roxas you're... in hospital," He paused, collecting himself, letting the words sink in to Roxas's consciousness. Axel knew the next question, because it was always the next question.

"It's not just some illness picked up on the pier... Roxas you've been sick for a long time..." Roxas wasn't sure he could stand to hear Axel's voice crack anymore. He was holding it together with only a few frays of sanity, and it was all somehow because Roxas was ill. He tried to look accepting, so Axel might look less crippled, but it was hard to control such a blank expression when every word that passes your ears is like another from a nightmare.

Though Axel, even now, knew what was coming next, he let it this time. All the other times he tried to fight it, tried to get this part over with, but he wasn't sure that this wouldn't be the last time, so he let it play out, hoping he wouldn't regret these minutes. Roxas's lips turned dry. It was setting in.

"What's wrong with me Axe...?" Roxas's usually boyish, lively blue eyes were dull, greying. No one person should have to live like this, Axel thought over and over. He'd grown too tired over the years to break things anymore. He was tired of shaking Roxas, hoping he'd find a memory somehow. He was just _so _tired.

"There was an accident a couple of years ago... You and your parents, you were going away for the weekend or something. There was a... a pile-up on the motorway... doctors said they died instantly, but you got a really bad bump on the head... always said you were too thick headed for your own good..." Every pause tore into Roxas a little more than last. Every bit of information was like a searing smack with a burning hot steel hammer, not only painful on impact but with a lasting blistering reality kind of feeling. He tried to move to the bed before he slumped down, back resting against the hard base. Axel moved slowly, same cautious steps Roxas remembered from the pier, and felt a lifetime away from that moment. He sat down beside him, toying with the disintegrating edge of his worn black hoody. When he spoke again his voice sounded more clinical, more practiced. This wasn't the first time Axel had said these words.

"It's severely affected several parts of your brain Rox. Especially your..."

"Memory. Yeah I guessed..." Roxas didn't sound angry. He didn't sound anything. He was just a hollow shell, left with ringing ears in the aftermath of a bomb detonation.

"Yeah... I know it doesn't mean much to you, seen as you haven't known any of this long but... they say your brain might be trying to repair itself. The say the intervals between you becoming lucid are getting shorter... They're not promising miracles, but it's the best shot we've got at the moment..." He looked gangly, awkward beside Roxas's tiny body. He felt unforgivably helpless.

"How long have I been like this?" His voice was getting sharper, more forced between gritted teeth. Axel knew he wasn't angry at _him, _but it didn't stop him from worrying. He spent months waiting for these moments, the time's when, for however long, he had his Roxas back, and he couldn't help spending them worrying that one day in those precious moments Roxas would turn on him.

"Four years," Axel breathed, a sigh trickling from his lips to give away his exhaustion. Roxas looked up at him, detaching himself from the whole fucking impossible situation long enough to appreciate that beautiful face. His memories could never live up to the real thing, be those drug induced memories, and be the real thing as haggard as it was right now. He let a hand rise and brushed the skin along Axel's cheekbone with the side of it, lingering for a second over the slightly raised skin of the tattoos Roxas had known and loved. Axel's otherwise weary eyes lightened up for a captivating moment, meeting Roxas's with all the hidden intensity that no head injury could eradicate from his system.

"How long do I have before I go back..." Roxas tried to coat the words in all the inoffensiveness he could muster, hoping not to disturb the now still atmosphere. Axel just let a tiny smile escape the corner of his mouth, repeating words he said every few months. Hoping maybe this time it'd be different, even knowing the fall it cost him every time Roxas's glazed over expression met him after he slept again.

"Usually around six hours, then when you fall asleep again, I just wait until next time..." Axel cupped Roxas's lingering hand with his own. Roxas felt the hints of familiarity at the edge of his consciousness, but refused to let them distract him. He was determined, if his whole world had gone to hell, the least he could do was spend those precious few hours Axel waited god knows how long for proving that he was the one thing Roxas could never forget. Axel walked towards a simple cupboard at the end of the bed and retrieved documents that explained things in medical details Roxas wasn't sure he had the energy to comprehend.

He would spend most of those hours in Axel's arms, while Axel explained what he'd missed over the years. Doctors passed through after a while, checking vitals and taking him for brain scans while he was lucid. Axel never left his side. They traded memories, Axel told him stories, and Roxas considered how truly messed up everything was. He also took the time to realise that the part of Axel's features that he didn't recognise was the result of years of sitting, wishing and waiting for him to wake up. While Axel retrieved drinks for them both during another test, one of the nurses explained that he visited every day, working nights to scrape by so he could spend his days looking after Roxas. Apparently they'd learned early on the Axel was one of the only people he would accept his medication off when he was elsewhere in his head, as they put it. Roxas felt like he might scream with how unfair it was that he'd pulled Axel down with him, and contemplated telling him to just leave him and get back to his life, but he knew all too well the response he would get. He tried murmuring it to Axel later, while they lay on the clinical bed staring at the ceiling. Axel just held him tighter, his voice strong and quiet in his ear, telling Roxas he wasn't going anywhere. Aside from the fact that he needed to be there to make the nurses job easier, he was the closest thing to family Roxas had left, and he refused to leave him to wake up to nothing familiar.

After their time was officially spent, Roxas found himself nuzzling closer into Axels chest, knowing he couldn't fight his eyes forever. He kissed Axel hard, not sure if he cared if anyone walked in to see it, and not sure if he cared if it wasn't what Axel wanted. It was all he _had_ to leave him with. When he slept again until something in his brain mended enough to open his eyes, what else would Axel have in _his_ memory but a whimpering fucked up boy crying against his chest, otherwise? He knew he wouldn't even remember this encounter when he woke up next, which forced a choked sob to shake him as he began to drift.

As Roxas's eyes closed, visions of skyscrapers and twilight dancing behind his eyelids, Axel felt like screaming again. Another month meant another twenty eight days he might finally consider jumping off a building, but all thought evaporated as Roxas left the softest of whispers on Axel's cheek.

"Let's meet again, in the next life..."


End file.
